


A Holmes for Halloween

by daleksanddetectives



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Riding, Sherlock's Coat, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleksanddetectives/pseuds/daleksanddetectives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John raises an eyebrow, “worked it out yet, genius?”</p>
<p>“This is one instance I’m hoping I haven’t,” Sherlock mumbles.</p>
<p>After doing a little twirl, John holds his arms out and pitches his voice down, “I’m Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Holmes for Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not too sure about writing nsfw but hey, I gave it a go and finally wrote my Halloween fic~

“John, we’re going to be late!” Sherlock calls, standing in front of the living room mirror and rubbing a hand over his stubble.

“Never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth,” John chuckles, emerging from Sherlock’s bedroom.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and places his pirate hat over slicked back curls. He arranges his hair around it and turns to see John leaning against the living room door, arms folded and a smirk on his lips.

And wearing one of Sherlock’s shirts.

“We’re going to a _costume_ party, John. You could at least put some effort into what you’re wearing.”

John pushes away from the door and saunters to the coat rack. Sherlock narrows his eyes as John pulls the Belstaff from its hook and pushes his arms through the holes. Looking down, Sherlock sees that John is wearing black shoes and suit trousers

John raises an eyebrow, “worked it out yet, genius?”

“This is one instance I’m hoping I haven’t,” Sherlock mumbles.

After doing a little twirl, John holds his arms out and pitches his voice down, “I’m Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective.”

“My coat is a bit long on you.”

“I look the part though, don’t I?” John takes the deerstalker from its perch on Billy the skull and places it on his head with a smirk.

Sherlock sniffs the air. Grabbing the collar of the coat, Sherlock pulls John close and presses his nose against John’s throat and takes a deep breath. He pulls back enough to be nose to nose with John and narrows his eyes again.

“Are you wearing my cologne?”

John cocks his head to the side, “problem?”

“You smell like me and you’re wearing my clothes,” Sherlock drops his nose to the open collar of John’s shirt, “I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

“Too bad. We’re already late,” John gently pushes Sherlock away. Sherlock starts to pout but John presses a quick kiss to his nose and starts pulling him towards the door.

“Aren’t you taking my scarf as well?” Sherlock asks, “if you really want to ‘look the part’?”

“Thanks for reminding me,” John pulls the tatty blue scarf from its hook and ties it around his neck. He puts the coat collar up around it and frowns in what he hopes is a very Sherlock manner, “how do I look?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “let’s just go.”

: :

Greg howls with laughter when he sees John’s costume.

Sherlock scowls most of the evening, only letting up when John pushes a drink and a plate of chocolate cake into his hands. He hovers beside John for the remainder until they find themselves standing in a quiet corner, watching some of the rather tipsy officers try to dunk for apples in a tub of water they’d found. John sticks his hands in the pockets of the Belstaff and his eyes widen when his fingers close around two very distinct objects. He nudges Sherlock with his elbow.

“Sherlock, why do you have your lock picking kit and a condom in your pocket?”

“Always prepared, John,” Sherlock smirks, taking a sip of his drink, “we can make use of one or both if you wish.”

“You’re not picking the lock to some poor soul’s office again so we can have sex,” John leans closer to whisper into Sherlock’s ear, “take me home and I’ll let you shag me through the mattress.”

John gives Sherlock’s arse a squeeze before sweeping past to say his goodbyes to Greg. Sherlock downs his drink before dragging John down the stairs of Scotland Yard and outside, where he raises an arm to flag down a taxi. John allows himself to be bundled into the back seat and pulled half into Sherlock’s lap. Immediately, Sherlock’s nose is against John’s clavicle, breathing deeply.

John squeezes Sherlock’s knee, “not yet.”

He feels teeth graze his throat and breathes a laugh.

“When we get home.”

Sherlock growls quietly but keeps his face pressed against John’s neck for the rest of the journey back to Baker Street.

: :

Seconds after the door of the flat shuts, Sherlock has John pressed up against it.

John pushes the pirate hat off Sherlock’s head and threads his fingers into the curls to pull Sherlock’s lips to his own. The kiss starts off rough and heated, gradually slowing down to gentle swipes on tongue and quiet moans. John rocks his hips against Sherlock’s and starts walking them backwards.

“Bedroom,” he gasps when they break off for breath.

Reaching down, Sherlock scoops up John’s thighs and urges him to wrap his legs around his waist to carry him through to their shared bedroom. He slams the door shut with his foot and deposits John in the middle of the bed, where he sprawls out on top of the fanned out coat. Sherlock licks his lips and starts unfastening his shirt.

“Undress, now.”

John grins and wriggles his arms out of the coat, eagerly unbuttoning the shirt and shoving it off and to the floor, his trousers following quickly. He carefully pulls the coat back and lies back to watch Sherlock, spreading his legs slightly and shifting his hips.

The costume breeches and floaty shirt are kicked into a corner by Sherlock before he opens the bedside drawer and takes out the tube of lubricant. Eagerly, Sherlock parts John’s knees and sits between them, leaning forward to claim a far gentler kiss that those they’d shared earlier.

Sherlock pauses when he sits back.

“This coat is dry clean only.”

“So wear a condom and we’ll try not to make a mess,” John groans, spreading his legs a little wider.

Sherlock frowns, “we’ve barely used them in bed since we first got together.”

“Run the risk of the dry cleaning bill or wear one. I don’t really care as long as you stick something in me soon.”

John arches his back and wriggles to make his point.

Pouting, Sherlock gives his cock a few strokes and reaches into the Belstaff’s pocket for a condom. He rolls it on and squeezes some lube onto his fingers and with a kiss to John’s thigh, he pushes his index finger into John’s arse.

“ _Finally_ ,” John moans, pushing down on the finger.

John whimpers when Sherlock works his way up to the third finger.

“I’m more than ready, Sherlock,” John pushes his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and tugs, “fuck me.”

And apparently, Sherlock moves too slow, because the next thing he knows is being on his back with John straddling his thighs. The silky inside of the coat brushes against the fine hair on his legs and Sherlock makes a mental note to encourage John to wear it sans clothes more often. That’s the only thought Sherlock manages, however, because that’s when John decides to line himself up with Sherlock’s cock and sink down to the hilt.

John starts to circle his hips and lets Sherlock rock up into him. They start off with a leisurely pace but quickly start rutting urgently against each other.

“I know you’re already pretty worked up so let’s just get off. We can take more time in the morning,” John groans as he starts to move faster, moving a hand down to his own cock.

Sherlock swats John’s hand away and uses his own hand to start wanking him off.

It only takes a few tugs before John starts feeling a familiar tingling in his stomach and leans forward, clutching at the duvet either side of Sherlock’s head.

“I’m gonna come,” John gasps, hanging his head.

“So come.”

Sherlock surges his head up to press their lips together as John starts to come, swallowing his moans and revelling in the feel of John’s arse. It doesn’t take much more to tip Sherlock over the edge

John falls forward onto his elbows, very aware of keeping the coat clean, and rests his head against Sherlock’s throat. Before he lets himself settle in, John props himself up and drags himself out of the bed. Sherlock moans and flaps an arm at him.

“Stop whining, I’m going to clean up,” John says, rolling his eyes, “need to make sure your precious coat is okay.”

He sees Sherlock narrow his eyes before slipping into the en suite and giving himself a perfunctory rub down. He dampens a flannel and leaves it in the sink while he pads out into the living room to hang the coat up on its hook. He brushes his hand down the back and shakes his head, quickly returning for the cloth and letting himself back into the bedroom.

Sherlock has binned the condom and lies with his eyes closed. Obviously not hearing John’s return, Sherlock startles when John starts washing his stomach with the now slightly cold cloth. Once satisfied, John throws the flannel on the floor to deal with in the morning and rolls onto the bed on his back. John raises an arm and lets Sherlock snuggle in against him.

“I believe this requires a repeat performance,” Sherlock mumbles before falling into a sated doze. John breathes a laugh against Sherlock’s hair and if he saw Sherlock slipping a new condom into his Belstaff pocket the next day, well, he didn’t mention it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come party on my [tumblr](http://sherlocksbuttonhole.tumblr.com/).


End file.
